Cause and Effect: New Years
by Faylinn Night
Summary: "You kids could do the world some good." It's New Years Eve and the guys - age 10 - sneak out of the Lair to visit Times Square. When they get lost, they run into some trouble. But lessons are learned during wrong turns - - some of which last a life time.


**Author's Notes:** Happy New Years, everyone! Yeah. Again, unplanned one-shot. Plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone.

This is set in the TMNT universe I've crafted with "_Finding Balance_" and beyond, but it can also stand alone. It's still filled with FORESHADOW and EASTER EGGS, though. Ya know, my usual. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. OC belongs to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Cause and Effect: <strong>**New Years**

At ten years old, Hamato Leonardo knew better than to sneak Topside. Really, he did. But that didn't mean his single voice of reason could control three younger brothers or his own curiosity. It's the force that eased him past the sleeping quarters of his master, out of the quaint Lair settled underground, to the snowy streets above. Bitter cold threatened to drive the group back home, yet Leo didn't hear one brother suggest they give up. So, he didn't think much about the dense vapor clouds his labored breath produced—only the fact that they were running out of time.

"Jeeze, Donny; ya said ya knew where ta go!" Raphael cried. Leo almost cringed at the hothead's semi-high accent; it'd grown more prominent during the last year, and Leo was sure it stemmed from watching too many Brooklyn cop shows. When Raph pushed his lankier brother in the plastron, forcing Donny to hit Mikey, Leo stepped forward to round him by the shoulder.

"Give him a break, Raph," he said sternly over his scarf. "We've only been Topside a few times before."

"We've been circlin' the same two blocks for the last half hour," Raph countered with a glare beneath his large beanie.

"Doesn't mean you have to be mean about it," noted Michelangelo mildly. After ensuring Don's sneakers didn't slip on the wet roof they resided on, he stepped aside then rubbed his gloves together. "We must be close, right? Times Square can't be _that_ hard to find."

Raph scoffed, folding his arms over his over-sized jacket. "Obviously, a giant, glowin' tower is too hard for our Brainiac ta find—even at night."

"I don't see _you_ doing any better!" Donatello snapped with a swipe of his hand. He met the hothead's glare with his own, except a look from Leo settled it into a frown.

"We have about half an hour before the ball drops for New Year's," Leo said, sighing.

"What street is it off again?" asked Mikey as he surveyed the drab buildings surrounding them.

"It's on the corner of Seven and…and"—Don's short snout crinkled in thought—"West Forty-Sixth. That's what the online map said, anyway."

"An' where the hell are _we_?"

Leonardo snorted at Raph's gruff question then faced the hothead. "Language, Raphael."

"Whatever," he grumbled in return.

Leo twitched when the red-banded brother whirled around. Sheesh; hopefully those cop shows' influence wouldn't remain too long…

"So where are we again?" With a look of upmost confusion, the blue-eyed Mikey met Leo's gaze then Don's.

"I—I'm not sure," Don answered before peering at the busy street. "Forty-forth? Or Second? S—somewhere in the forties. I think."

Suddenly, Mikey threw his hands in the air. "Gah! Everything looks the same. We won't ever figure out how to navigate this city, will we?"

"If Master Splinter has it his way, yeah," answered Raph lowly.

"We aren't meant for the human world," Leo said, soft while repeating the all-too familiar words of his father.

"But that doesn't mean they get to have all the fun," Mikey interjected. His wide smile beamed brighter than the moon looming overhead and he stood confidently, saying, "We can see fireworks too."

"And confetti," added Donny with a similar grin.

"Duh," noted Raph. "Why else would we be out?"

Smile growing devious, Mikey stood beside the hothead to jab him in the side. "Just admit you're as excited as the rest of us and are scared we're gunna miss it."

"I ain't scared."

"Sure."

"I'll show ya what scared looks like!"

Leonardo sighed as Raphael wrapped a strong arm around Michelangelo's neck, pulling him in for an intense noogie.

"I—I won't cry 'Uncle' that easily," the orange-banded brother insisted while struggling for freedom.

"Oh, yeah?" Raph retorted with a smirk. Then, his fist drove down onto Mikey's covered head harder.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Once Mikey dropped to his knees, Leo intervened, pulling the two apart so Raph stood and Mikey laid flat on the roof. "Enough, Raph; we have to get to Times Square soon."

"It looks so easy to find on TV," said Don glumly as Leo helped Mikey to his feet. "I'd say we could follow the lights and noise, but…"

"This whole place is made of lights and noise!"

"Exactly, Mikey."

"So, why don't we ask someone?"

"Um," Leo started in unison with Don and Raph.

"Do ya wanna get us caught, Shell-for-Brains?"

"Mikey"—Don tried yet failed to sound unnerved by the idea—"it's best if we don't."

Leo nodded along with his genius brother. "We did something similar when we were seven, remember? We caused trouble for that boy."

"This wouldn't be mingling," insisted Mikey, mouth puckered.

"Still, it'd—"

"G—give me the cash; all of it!"

The sputtering threat of a male tensed Leo's jaw like a vice. He stood rigidly in his circle of brothers on the roof, not yet daring to move until his attention found Raphael. The red-banded mutant gripped his fists tightly, inching towards the alley beside them despite of his older brother's shaking head. What little snow that didn't melt from the heated building crunched as he did so. Or maybe the edgy situation heightened Leo's hearing, making it seem as if every heartbeat could be heard by whoever was in the alley.

"Don't," the eldest whispered to Raph, heated.

"I said _give it_!"

Bang! A gunshot rang through the thick atmosphere. Leo only recognized it because of television. In real life, it sounded much louder, piecing as it nicked the ledge by Raph, and the blue-banded mutant instinctively tackled his hotheaded brother against the roof. He earned a glare in return, though fear lit it, and he ignored the pulsing in his chest to keep calm while signaling Mikey and Donny towards safety. They held onto one another, wide-eyed, shaking. Leo could hardly stand the sight.

"One last chance, lady!"

"Calm down," a woman replied—a gentle, sure action. It lured Leonardo like the calm talks of his father, so he slowly pushed himself onto his knees until flush with the ledge.

Beyond its smooth concrete, he spotted the attacker through a new flurry of snow: a Caucasian male who was skinny and dirty from do-rag to worn shoes. The gun in his left hand rattled faintly below the ambient light from a lamp mounted beside a store's side door. And when the man's supposed victim—a short-haired brunette—took a step forward, he added his right hand to its handle, failing to steady it.

"If this is really what you want, I can give you money," the woman said. Leo found it amazing how easy her voice sounded when faced with a loaded weapon. His only detection of fear was an occasional shiver beneath her fuzzy Duffle coat, which wracked her form whenever the man's finger twitched against the trigger.

"D—d—don't look at me like that," the gunman cried, straightening.

"I have no other way I can look at you."

"H—how about I take out your leg? Bet you'd change your tune then!"

"I—is he really gunna…?" Raph's whisper trailed off into a croak as the man demanded money a third time. While the hothead was known to boast about what a great cop he'd make, reality humbled him—fast. No brave face could hide his anxiety.

"He can't," added Don, mortified. When he moved, Leo didn't know; but now he and Mikey kneeled along the building's stone lip, also peering into the alley.

"Wh—what are we supposed to do, Leo?" questioned Mikey.

Leonardo could tell from the youngest's tone that subtle tears had formed and he excised great care so as not to panic. "We shouldn't get involved," he whispered.

"B—but the lady—"

"I said _stop_ looking at me!" A click sounded—the cock of the gun.

The brunette stiffened with her wallet already pulled. "What's your name?" she asked, a single crack in her kind voice.

The man flashed a contorted look—a mix of disgust, confusion, and anger. "W—what?"

"I asked your name."

"Why? S—so you can report me to the police? How dumb do you think I am?"

"I'm only—"

"Just give me the money!"

He shot again, at the woman's boots. She fumbled in shock through the snow then straightened as the gun cocked again. Either bravely or stupidly, she raised her chin at its short barrel, taking subtle steps through the flurry while still shifting through her wallet. Her actions clearly unnerved the man. And such fear proved dangerous because the gunman was quickly losing control.

"S—stay back," he said, gripping the hand gun tighter than before.

She shook her head.

"I said, _stay back_!"

He fired. But instinct had already pushed Leonardo over the ledge.

Before the bullet reached the woman, he landed in the snowy alley like a mini anchor then stole a stray trashcan lid for a shield. While the metal slowed the bullet down, it didn't stop it. And despite the burn that erupted across his shoulder, Leo stood his ground—shield raised high—as Raphael swept the legs from the gunman and Michelangelo round-house kicked to ensure he stayed down.

Leo was about to call his brothers back when the man caught Donatello's ankle. The genius had ventured close to kick the gun away—a good intent—yet was flung in the direction of Raph instead, violently forcing them into a cluster of trashcans while the man kicked behind Mikey's knees. The youngest fell with a cry, unprepared for the fist that whipped across his face. The subsequent kick slid him near the alley's brick wall, and instinct guided Leo to him like a calling.

"I don't think so, kid," the gunman snarled before something caught Leo's jacket. The young mutant was jerked from Mikey's trembling form and his shield towards the opposing wall, whose hardness beat against his skull worse than Sensei's occasional smacks upside the head. "How about this, lady? Hand over the money or the kid dies."

Leonardo froze once he slid onto the soggy ground; lifting his gaze left him staring at the imposing barrel of the shaking handgun. And unlike the woman, he couldn't bring himself to maintain composure. Sensei had been training him for two years. He was exceeding in his Ninjutsu. But he wasn't faster than a bullet, point blank.

"You don't want to do that!" A break in the woman's control brought shivers to Leo's frame, her pained words barely audible over the dire pounding of his heart.

"I—I will," the gunman insisted. He shoved the barrel closer—so much so that the chilled skin on Leo's forehead tingled with its heated metal from previous gunfire.

"N—no, you won't."

The man dared shift his attention at the whisper, though only for a second.

"Look, my name is Mia," the brunette added, a little surer. Leo sensed her move in his peripheral vision, except he couldn't tear his eyes off the chattering gun that shook against his head. "As desperate as you are—as anyone would be—a child's life is precious. It needs protected, not threatened. You know that, right?"

"I—I"—the man held his breath then released it in one heavy vapor cloud—"Please, ju—just give me the money. And this will end."

"Will _money_ solve your problem?" Mia countered. She may've bent or crouched in the flurry—Leo couldn't tell—but she did approach cautiously, occasionally glancing down the alley, maybe at his brothers.

"It's none of your business!"

"You made it my business the moment you pulled me into this alley!" Mia now stood within a short distance of Leo and her fierce words were accompanied by a strong presence. Chi? Perhaps; Splinter had only recently introduced the concept of such.

"Just…give me the money."

The gun shook worse under the man's sob—a gut-wrenching action. What if his finger twitched? What if it was set off regardless? Leo couldn't breathe, his tears overpowering him with lightheadedness as the metal hit him over and over in dreadful taps.

"I need it," the man added.

"I don't doubt that," Mia said tenderly. "But is it worth a child's life? They were only helping. They were being _good_."

"What does goodness get anyone?" the gunman croaked.

"So much." A peculiar skip in Mia's tone left her speaking just above a whisper. "If it weren't for goodness, I wouldn't have my husband or my baby. She's only seven, a—and I want to get back to her. So let me help you."

"Me? _You're_ the one in danger!"

"I—I don't think I am."

"You're testing me, woman."

"No"—Mia's short hair bobbed around her when she shook her head, her arms rising slowly in surrender—"you're testing yourself. If you truly thought you were capable of killing, you would've shot already, moved on to one of the others. Deep down, you know this isn't what you want. It's only what you think you need. But it isn't that, either."

"H—how would you know?"

"Because I've looked into so many faces of desperation in my life than I should have to."

What reason did the man have to cry? His angry tears were beyond confusing, but as they increased, the barrel's pressure lessened. If they were capable of pulling the gun away completely, Leo wished with all his might that the grimy man broke down sobbing.

"You need to find another way to help your family."

"Who?"—the panting gunman whirled Mia's way—"Who said I have a family?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mia countered with a cluster of bills outstretched like a peace offering. "You did."

The gunman remained still for the longest time, chest heaving. Leonardo watched the vapor clouds around the human disperse to keep his attention off the gun. It was all he could do to keep from curling up and wishing this all were a nightmare. Michelangelo, Raphael, and Donatello shifted somewhere in the alley. He thought Mikey choked back a whimper. Then again, it could've from him.

"This is what you wanted, right?" Mia egged on.

For the first time, Leo met the man's gaze. The human had been careful to keep his bright eyes towards the side or on the gun, but when connected, the young mutant sensed more than rage or frustration. He sensed a sadness that left his assailant looking empty, pointless. The hand gun lowered the longer Leo stared, until the human snatched Mia's money and took off with only a curse in his wake.

"Leo!" Michelangelo cried. Instant arms encased Leonardo strongly then pulled him close as the orange-banded brother shook violently by the alley wall. Leo shook along with him, not quite certain he had been at gunpoint mere moments ago. It took the tear-stained faces of Raphael and Donatello, who approach in timid steps, to confirm the reality. By then, his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

"Are you kids okay?" Mia questioned, nearing. Don and Raph were quick to form a barricade between the woman and Leo, so she halted in the snow, gaze soft while kneeling. "Are you hurt?

"W—we're fine," Raph spat.

Mia smiled at him, though her attention soon fell on Leo. "You were very brave, Leo," she said softly.

"B—brave?" With such a dry throat, Leo could hardly gain air, let alone speak.

"Yes. Most people would've caused a panic. You didn't."

That was simply because he was paralyzed. But Mia didn't seem to care for the true reason.

"Even so, what you did was _very_ dangerous. Why jump in?"

"Because"—Don shifted, uneasy—"i—it was the good thing to do."

"Yet you had no idea of how to help properly."

Leo felt Mikey stiffen at his side when Raph and Don hung their heads. Mia caught his eyes between them, so he looked down, conflicted about the startling amount of characteristics she shared with his master.

"Guess we didn't do much," Raph added before kicking some snow aggressively. "The bad guy won."

"Is that how you see it?" Mia asked, facing the red-masked mutant. He slid back under her gaze, drawing his beanie down further.

"A'course he did. He got the money."

"Money means nothing; it's an object that will only make him hollow."

"S—so if he didn't win…no one did?"

Mia sent Don a grin—charming like a television mom. "I did."

"But ya lost yer money," said Raph in clear confusion.

"Perhaps. Yet you four are alive, as am I. What greater win is there than life? Besides, I know I hit a chord. He won't stay on this road for long."

"How can you be so sure?" questioned Don, stance weakening.

"How do I put it?" the woman started thoughtfully. Her gloved hand tabbed her chin several times. Then, something ignited behind her brown eyes and brought them to each brother that watched her. "People aren't black and white. They're all the grays in the middle. Mostly, they vary in degrees of darkness, so decent people make poor choices at times. It's not because they want to. They just don't know how to get around things otherwise. Or maybe they're in too much pain to realize it."

"C—can pain really make someone shoot another person?" Mikey asked fearfully, his head partly turned on Leo's throbbing shoulder.

"Unfortunately, yes," Mia said with a dying grin. "My brother fell victim to such pain. Now he's paying for it. I—I couldn't be there for him. So when I find someone else who's in similar pain, I can't help, well, helping."

"E—even if they hold you at gunpoint?"

"Especially then."

"Why?"

Mikey's soft bewilderment brought the woman closer to the ground until she sat on her boots. "Because, usually, they need it the most."

Was such true? Leo didn't believe so. To him, an obvious, thick line existed between victims and villains. Splinter spoke of it too. However, Mia smiled knowingly at him, as if she was somehow sure of the doubt he harbored.

Standing, she said, "You're right; that isn't always the case. Sometimes, the villains are bad for the sake of bad. Or, there's no hope of convincing them otherwise. But that doesn't mean you should be quick to judge. Would you like it if others judged _you_ with a simple glance?"

The four brothers remained silent under the gravity of Mai's statement. If only she knew…

"You kids have good hearts—strong, brave, caring. Stay that way, okay? You have potential to change people you meet, too."

Mikey perked up. "Y—you really think so?"

"Don't get yer hopes up, Mike," Raph scolded while partly turning. "We're not supposed ta meet people, remember?"

"You're not?" Mia asked. "That seems like a loss."

"Yeah, well…our father's kinda protective."

"Guess I understand that. I hope he changes his mind later, though. You kids could do the world some good. Meanwhile, you _should_ be listening to his wishes."

"We only wanted to see the ball drop in Times Square," Mikey grumbled with a thick sniffle.

"Oh? I'm on my way there, actually. I'm meeting my husband and daughter, so"—Mia smiled—"why don't you four join me?"

"We can't," Leo said so suddenly, Mia faltered. "I—I'm sorry, but we should be heading back home now. We shouldn't have come out in the first place."

"I see…Well, Seventh Avenue is the next street over, towards the left. You follow that north and you can't miss Times Square. But, that's just for future reference." The brunette shrugged her shoulders beneath her Duffle coat then buried her hands in her pockets as she eased towards the alley's mouth, saying, "Thank you for your help, Leo. I doubt the bullet would've been fatal, but you acted like a true hero. Be sure to have your father look at that nick, alright?"

Leo barely nodded at her before she turned down the sidewalk. Wordless, he rose from the ground with help from Mikey, whose face was smeared with coarse dirt.

"Sh—she didn't pressure us to go to a hospital," noted Don.

"So what?" Raph added, meeting Leo's gaze, questioning.

"Most adults would've," Don continued. "Even if it's a minor wound, it's still a gun shot."

"D—do you think she knows we can't?"

"Or maybe she thinks our father's competent enough ta tend ta Fearless here."

"Don't call me that," Leo snapped. His hissed when his hand met his shoulder, though its burn paled in comparison to Raph's teasing smirk. "Shut up."

"Are we really going back home?" asked Mikey while glancing over the group.

All eyes fell on Leo. He knew what he should say. He knew what his father would want. He also knew what the responsible choice would be.

Regardless, he gripped his shoulder tighter and said, "I got shot; mind as well make this trip worth it. Come on."

The group was silent as they followed. Rooftops were difficult to manage because of their short height, so they struggled to make it across unseen. At one point, Mikey face-planted into a side window to reach a fire escape and Raph almost slid off the edge of a slanted roof lined by tin because of ice. And, sure, they needed to make a mad dash across a lifeless construction site. But in the end, they made it to Times Square—huffing with pure exhaustion.

"L—look at that!" Michelangelo cried from their perch atop a glass building. He pointed at a giant globe on a flagpole that danced with bright hues to the thumping live music.

The energy was amazing. As were the lights. They lit the whole Square—from digital billboards to the stage—and people were packed so close together that they melded into a sea of colors like a cereal box. Leo felt a sudden unease at their sheer amount. It was almost like a spotlight was forced on him and his brothers, though they sat well out of sight in such a high perch.

"Th—that's a lot of people," Donatello noted stiffly.

Raphael scoffed. "Come on; they're the size 'a ants from here. What's it matter?"

He was nervous too, yet Leo didn't point it out. He simply shook his head then drew his attention to the flagpole when a man over a PA announced the countdown.

"We made it just in time!" Mikey exclaimed, settling beside Leo.

The blue-banded mutant smiled at him before placing an arm around his brother, who did likewise to Raph after forcing him close. Don followed the lead without question by kneeling beside Leo, throwing an arm around him, and as the quartet counted down the numbers that blinked across the tower screens, Leo couldn't help surveying the uplifted faces of his siblings.

"_You kids have good hearts—strong, brave, caring. Stay that way, okay?"_

Mia's words echoed in Leonardo's mind louder than the words spoken from his lips. If good people could make bad choices…then that meant he and his brothers could too. Living in the human world may rouse that pain. So is it likely they'd be like that gunman in their future?

No. That's not the person Leo wished to be. He'd rather be a protector, a guardian, a hero—especially for his clan. He wanted to possess wisdom like Splinter and keep calm in danger like Mia—not at all like the seize-up he succumbed to in the alley. And he would do everything in his power to ensure his brothers followed the same path.

"_You kids could do the world some good."_

The idea was tempting. While the human world was barred for now, Leo couldn't help wondering if they would help later on. Maybe Master Splinter would let them. One day. Until then, he resolved to train harder, prepare himself for the role he aimed to fulfill. He'd have his brothers alongside him, so he was sure they could achieve a great team of heroes—with him at the head. Just don't tell Raph.

"Happy New Years!" everyone cried out unanimously. Then, the bangs of confetti filled the Square, the crowd erupted into cheers over the music, and fireworks shot from the tower in mesmerizing displays that made the night sky look like day.

It really was a lot better than watching it on television.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> 'Wait...was that Mia ANDERS? As in Nia's MAMA?' Why, yes. Yes, it was. Wanted to do a fic about the young guys, and she surprised me. Now you all get a little taste about the super power Nia mentioned her mother having way at the beginning of the series. So ready for you guys to know more! Don't forget to look for "Sunrise" come the 9th. :D


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